


A Day Out

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Sussex Retirement [21]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Retirement Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-03 01:30:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12738288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Holmes and Watson have been in their cottage for two years, and Holmes has plans for the day.





	A Day Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's Older Not Dead "Love" Challenge, prompt Good morning, beloved.

I woke to find Holmes already awake, but still lying in bed next to me. 

“Good morning, beloved,” I said.

He replied in kind, and I expected him to get up, but he remained where he was.  A few years ago that would have indicated he was sickening, or possibly he hadn’t yet gone to sleep.  But since our move to the country there had been days when he had been content to lie in bed and continue with the mental processes which had previously necessitated sitting on a pile of cushions and smoking enumerable pipes.

What hadn’t changed was his disinclination to share his thoughts with me, and accordingly I lay beside him, enjoying the peace of an early morning.  I had got to the point of thinking I would need to get up soon, and begun to move slightly when Holmes said, “You do know what today is, don’t you?”

“It’s exactly two years since we arrived here,” I replied.

“I was thinking we should do something to celebrate,” he said.

“What were you planning?” I asked.  I knew he would not have said anything if he hadn’t already got something in mind.

“A day out with a grateful client, who is happy to finally have the opportunity to show his appreciation of certain services rendered.”

“And which grateful client would that be?”

“The Duke of Norfolk.  I have arranged for us to spend the day at Arundel Castle.  We can take the train to Arundel station, where we shall be met by the coachman.”

“And what time is Austen calling to take us to the station?”

“Just after half past nine.”

“Then I shall most certainly get up now, if I am to have time to enjoy my breakfast.”

“I had wondered …,” Holmes murmured.

“Certainly not,” I said.  “I am not journeying anywhere without a decent breakfast.”

Holmes chuckled, having expected my reply.

***

We spent an excellent few hours at the castle.  The case which Holmes had undertaken for the Duke was of such national significance I have not yet been able to publish it, and of necessity Holmes had received no public reward. 

The Duke himself showed Holmes round the castle, demonstrating with pride the electric lights, central heating and service lifts which he had had installed.  He had also arranged for his staff to demonstrate how they would use the fire fighting equipment should it be required.

Meanwhile, the head gardener took me on a tour of the grounds, and we spent an extremely pleasant couple of hours discussing plants.  He even gave me some cuttings from the fruit bushes to try when I expressed an interest in growing a few at the bottom of our garden.

The Duke provided a late lunch, and then we were taken back to the railway station in time for our train.  Once more Austen, the carter, was there to take us home.

That evening, as we settled into our armchairs, I said, “Today has been delightful, Holmes.  Thank you so much for organising it.  I’m afraid my present to you may seem a little tame in contrast.”

I reached down inside my medical bag, which was resting against my chair, and took out a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.

Holmes felt the packet and correctly discerned it to be a picture, for instantly he looked round the walls to find a suitable space to hang it.  Then he unwrapped the paper, and his expression changed from one of curiosity to one of joy.

“But this is perfect, my dear Watson,” he said.  He leapt out of his seat and began trying the picture out against the walls, ensuring he could see it clearly from his chair.

The picture was a simple pastel drawing of Holmes’ beehives in their corner of the garden.  I had discovered our neighbour, Mrs Miller, was a keen artist.  I learnt she occasionally sold pictures of the village to visitors, and I had asked her if she could produce something for Holmes.  She had been delighted to be asked and we had agreed the bee hives would be the ideal subject.

Having decided where the painting was to hang, Holmes placed it carefully on the dining table.  He came over to me, bent down, and kissed me.  “I couldn’t have asked for anything better,” he said. 

“I’m pleased,” I replied.

Before sitting back down, he poured us both a glass of port.  It had been a Christmas present to both of us from Mycroft, and we saved it for special occasions.  He raised his glass in a toast, “To us and to many more years.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also written for 'Loving you was the best thing I ever did', but it's not a sentiment Holmes would express.


End file.
